39

 September 26, 2059 was a perfect time to be in New York. Temperature and humidity were dropping, and the summer tourists had thinned out. More importantly, the World’s Fair had returned to New York. Evelyn was attending rehearsals throughout our “honeymoon,” but I took a couple weeks off and we spent whatever time Evelyn’s schedule allowed exploring the fair.

Much had changed since New York’s first World’s Fair in 1939, which had given people their initial glimpse of television, the coming interstate highway system, home air conditioning, and, surprisingly, the first robots. At the time, to a nation worn down by the Great Depression and on the cusp of World War II, those innovations were almost universally hailed as boons that would make the world better for all humanity. The World’s Fair of 2059 drew much more hostility from a society grappling with the effects of too much technology.

Some exhibits received general praise. That’s where Wallutions debuted, allowing homeowners and businesses to change the look of their walls, ceilings, floors, doors, and windows via voice or computer commands. There were thousands of preset images, or you could design your own. You could choose themes that would make it look like you owned an expensive home overlooking the beach or a cabin nestled within a forest, complete with appropriate sounds and smells. Or you could make your walls clear so it looked like you were living out in the open, able to see your yard and your neighbors, while anyone looking at your home from the outside would see an opaque dwelling of your choosing. Your pictures could still hang on the wall, but they would only be holographic reproductions of those pictures. Wallutions built nearly all the stunning buildings at the fair, including the Trylon and Perisphere based on the icons of the 1939 World’s Fair. Evelyn and I spent a lot of time in one of their virtual booths designing our future home, which would include a view of the African savannah out the back and Central Park out the front.

Also for the home were the new, inexpensive solar cells that could generate enough electricity to power most homes and were available in a variety of forms like patio furniture, birdbaths, and clear or ornamental panels for your roof. The Transportation Zone featured new nanosensors and nanobots that could detect and repair car problems as well as nearly always keep your car out of an accident and, in the rare collision, help better protect the occupants. In decline for decades, car crashes would soon become freak events.

By far the most popular area was the Futurama, or Science and Technology Zone. Eye, ear, and neural implants had already eliminated nearly all deafness and blindness, and you could experience these artificial systems at the fair. You could also put on a featherweight jumpsuit with which you could control all of your limbs with your thoughts – a boon to paraplegics and those otherwise incapacitated.

But not all medical advances were so widely embraced. Especially those featured at the Ingeneuity/USCS exhibit. Our least controversial product was our artificial immune system that could by then quickly heal small cuts, keep arteries unclogged, automatically release antihistamines for allergy sufferers, dismantle a couple forms of cancerous tumors, and monitor your body to notify you on your homedic of any chemical/vitamin deficiencies, heart irregularities, microscopic tumors, and several other serious conditions that required medical attention. Over the next several years we were predicting the ability to stop most forms of cancer before they took hold, repair/replace major organs, heal broken bones, attack and kill most known viruses, and even pause your hair and fingernail growth. The only people who were strongly opposed to these advances were those who thought it unnatural to have tiny nanobots swimming about in their bodies or who felt our visions of longevity were nothing but hubris.

If they felt we were trying too hard for immortality with AIS, then they were really disturbed by our artificial bodies exhibit. Artificial hearts were old news, though improvements were still being made. And we now made artificial lungs, livers, and kidneys that wouldn’t be rejected by your body (assuming you were using our artificial immune system). Our artificial limbs could be surgically connected to your body and controlled by your brain. These artificial limbs and organs were more efficient and dependable than even the enhanced natural ones. We were working on an artificial digestive system that would be far more efficient than the natural one, as was our artificial blood that would soon supplement the blood in humans throughout the world, providing more oxygen when needed, rapidly coagulating injuries, and self-propelling itself for several minutes if the heart stopped. Before the end of the century we hoped to achieve one of my clone-father’s stated milestones and be able to maintain a living human brain inside a completely artificial body.

To our critics, we seemed so desperate for immortality that we were willing to turn humans into robots.

The complaints weren’t exactly a surprise. Our technology called into question some of the most fundamental aspects of our identity. The notion rooted in Christian tradition was that our bodies were an essential part of who we were, so much so that God would resurrect our bodies at the end of time. If humans were a sum of mind, body, and soul, and we created artificial bodies for ourselves, then we had changed ourselves in an essential way.

As Ingeneuity explained in our brochure and online, we weren’t trying to purge our humanity. Rather, we were simply trying to make humanity less susceptible to the inherent weaknesses of the mortal coil. Few people objected to the idea of transforming the human body into an artificial body on a per-part basis. If you needed an artificial arm, this was no sacrilege. If you needed a new liver or heart or eye, few complained about replacing it with an artificial one. So where did you draw the line? How many artificial parts were too many?

In a sort of convergent technology, other companies were coming ever closer to doing the opposite – turning robots into humans. Artificial intelligence had made tremendous strides, and high-end computers could by then process several times more information than the human mind. Some were fully capable of learning from their environment and were forming complex personalities. These companies had their protestors as well, especially at the building featuring the fair’s most popular exhibit.

The “People-bots,” as they were then called, were a joint venture between Ingeneuity’s artificial bodies division and a young, fast-growing AI company called Barebots that featured the most advanced androids ever created. There was a man-bot and a woman-bot called Elektro and Elektra and their pet dog Sparko, names based on the robots presented by Westinghouse in 1939. Unlike the 1939 Elektro, these did not smoke cigarettes. But they did talk. Not using a 78-rpm record, but instead synthetic voice boxes that could perform like our own only with a far greater vocal range.

They interacted casually with visitors in more than seventy different languages. And they were so convincingly human, several people left sure it was a trick. To prove their non-humanness, we left a panel of their cranial circuitry exposed, and the People-bots could remove their own eyes. They could also remember every face they saw and every word that was said, so if you returned even months later they would welcome you back and reminisce about your last conversation and what you were wearing. Including Sparko, who looked and acted like a dog, but then would occasionally start talking in a disconcertingly human manner. The three of them are still used at Barebots and sometimes walk the streets together as a family, stopping people they met more than twenty years ago to reminisce about that day they met at the fair.

Overall the World’s Fair was a success for our company, the city, and our honeymoon. Our wedded life was off to an excellent start – theatre, live music, Yankees games, walking arm-in-arm through Central Park as we drank in the smell of autumn leaves. There were times when I’d miss the weather, landscape, and ocean views of La Jolla, but I was pretty sure I could exist quite happily in New York.

Then again, I probably would have been happy in Podunk, North Dakota if I was with Evelyn. I’d never met anyone who embraced life so fully and seemed to appreciate it so dearly. No time was wasted whether it was spent at a show, exploring a museum, kicking back at home with a movie, discussing the nature of the universe, helping me figure out the plot of Hamlet Act VI, enjoying a hot fudge sundae at the diner around the corner, watching the rain outside our townhouse, making love at unexpected times, surprising each other with little tokens, or by saying or doing something off the wall.

The important thing, she would say, was to make every day unprecedented and memorable in some small way. She encouraged it by writing down whatever unprecedented thing we did each day. And we were fairly good at finding things. Or, I should say, she was fairly good at it, and I reaped the benefits.

Surprisingly, and thankfully, Hannah seemed to be warming to our relationship.

When Evelyn’s mother moved out to New York in early November, I was worried. But now that the marriage was done, she no longer seemed interested in breaking us up. Instead, she attempted to accept the situation and have a pleasant time with us when she visited, which usually didn’t happen more than once a week out of respect for our private time.

She did come over for Thanksgiving dinner. Her cooking was the only shot we had for the traditional turkey meal. Hannah had to bring most of the cooking accessories as well. We had packed light. I put the old family dining room table and chairs in the back of a pickup truck and packed some clothes, toiletries, and a few family pictures. Evelyn took what she could stuff in her backpack. She liked to call our sparse décor Bohemian, but I think she just liked to say that word.

The furnishings were sparse, but the table was full when Hannah was done cooking. We dug in.

“So, when can I expect some grandkids?” Hannah asked as we started on seconds.

Evelyn and I looked at each other and laughed.

“Well,” I said, “I’m afraid we’ve decided not to have any. Mark Twain once said that a baby is an inestimable blessing and bother, and we already feel blessed and really can’t be bothered.”

Evelyn laughed and I hid my smile in my glass of wine.

Hannah narrowed her eyes at us both. “Did you know that Mark Twain was born the year Halley’s Comet flew by, and correctly predicted he’d die the year it returned? He rode in on it, and rode out on it.”

“Yes, I’d heard that once,” I said as I scooped more sweet potatoes on my plate. “It flies by the earth every seventy-six years, I believe.”

“And how many times have you seen it?” Evelyn asked me. That nine-day age difference again.

I stuck my tongue out at her.

“And it’s going to be here again in 2061 and 2062,” Hannah continued.

Evelyn wiped her mouth and nodded. “And so you want us to have a baby in 2061 so he or she’ll have a lifespan of seventy-six years?”

Hannah smiled. “Well, I was thinking they could skip a couple passes. There’s no need to get back on the comet the next available time. Mainly, I’m a little worried about Adam. His biological clock is ticking, you know.”

“Hey, I’ve got my performance pills!”

Evelyn looked surprised. “Then why haven’t you been taking them?”

We glared at each other, seeing who could last the longest without cracking.

“So when do I get them?” Hannah prodded.

“The pills?” I asked.

“The babies!”

“About three months,” Evelyn answered.

Hannah gasped before realizing her daughter was playing with her. “Oh, I see. Then that’s why the wedding was so rushed.”

Evelyn and I shrugged and smiled guiltily.

“Seriously!” Hannah pressed.

“Well, definitely not till after Farewell Dolly,” I answered. We had discussed it a little, but hadn’t made firm plans.

Evelyn grabbed my hand under the table and smiled. “Don’t worry, Mom. You’ll be a grandmom before you know it,” she said. “Maybe even in time for them to see Halley’s Comet with us.”

Hannah gave us a satisfied grin and continued with her turkey.

I raised my eyebrow at Evelyn. There was something kind of cryptic about her return smile that struck me as odd, or maybe I added that to my memory later.

“So why the pressure?” I asked. “You’re already bored being a single woman in New York?”

It was the first time I’d seen Hannah blush. When Evelyn saw that her mother wasn’t going to explain, she was more than willing to do so.

“Actually, she ain’t that bored!”

“Evelyn, please,” Hannah said.

I looked from one to the other. “Um…so what’s going on here?”

“Mom’s trying to follow our lead.”

Hannah blushed even deeper. “Well I’m certainly not rushing into it as fast as you two did. But yes, I’m seeing a gentleman.”

“So when am I going to get some little half-brothers and half-sisters?” Evelyn teased.

“You knock it off!” Hannah cried in mock indignation.

“I’m sure I can get her a discount on an artificial womb,” I said to Evelyn.

“Artificial wombs,” Hannah said. “That’s even sillier than cloning!”

I held up my hands in surrender. “Just letting you know we can help whenever you two lovebirds are ready.”

“What a dear,” she said. “But I think by the time we’re ready to have babies, you’ll already have us all in silly robot bodies, and you can manufacture our baby on an assembly line.” She picked up her glass of wine. “Right now we’re still getting to know each other, and aren’t anywhere close to talkin’ babies.”

“But that’s the beauty of artificial wombs. You don’t have to get close at all!” I said like a slick artificial womb salesman.

“Well, we’ve gotten close,” Hannah admitted, immediately embarrassing herself and looking down at the table for solace.

“Mom!” Evelyn cried. “Shame on you!”

I threw my hands in the air. “And they talk about clones!”

Hannah made a small shrug and demurely took a sip of her Merlot, which was the same color as her face.

The rest of that evening’s conversation was less tawdry but just as lively. When it was over, we walked Hannah into the frosty air to wait for the cab. She gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. It was the first kiss she had given me.

“Thank you, I had a lovely time,” she said, holding onto my hand for a moment.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I said. I meant more than that she had come over for Thanksgiving.

“I just wish your mom could have been here too,” she said. “She was such a sweet woman.”

She had never before mentioned my mother. I didn’t even realize they had met each other. She hugged me again, hugged and kissed her daughter, and left. 

It was the first time I’d ever felt like I was part of a real family. The kind of family I’d read about. The kind of family I wanted to be a part of.